


The Tree

by 3six12



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-22
Updated: 2019-08-22
Packaged: 2020-09-23 22:34:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20347909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/3six12/pseuds/3six12
Summary: Because the Federation thought it would be a good idea to have the future of one of the most vital alliances hinge on Kirk’s ability to raise a tree.





	The Tree

Captain Kirk stood small before the looming being before him, his neck beginning to argue its position, trying hard not to squint in the bright light. He watched as the bark of its chest shifted, creaking with each movement of its lungs. The bark was thick and confluent, interrupted only at the overlapping of major joints. It was a rich, deep color although at places was white with a thin lichen. There was a tuft of moss over its right shoulder, a small bug moving lightly through the fronds. 

“You want me to take care of a,” Kirk paused. The pot in his hand, with the thin twig of a plant and its three leaves, was getting heavy. “Of a tree?”

The creature’s eyes closed, its impressive head coming down to almost touch Kirks forehead. Kirk could feel the heat of its breath and was reminded of the summer forests of Iowa, hot and muggy after a thunderstorm. When it opened its mouth to speak, there were no teeth or tongue and the vocalizations that came forth were carefully respoken in Standard by the universal translator.

“It is a sign of good faith. Bring up the young, raise it to the sun, allow it to find strong roots. In doing so, you will find roots with our people and your world will be connected with ours.”

Kirk looked over his shoulder, meeting eyes with Spock and raising his eyebrow in an unknown question. Spock responded in kind, his head tilting slightly. Had Kirk been so inclined he would have rolled his eyes. But this was a diplomatic mission of paramount importance and Kirk couldn’t allow himself to be so inclined.

If it was a smile on the creature’s face, Kirk wouldn’t have been able to tell and so felt a touch of awkwardness at his own smile. He shifted his weight from foot to foot, looking down at what would be considered the feet of the creature. Its arms were long, nearly touching the ground, and its fingers were spindly, twigs with more knuckles than a humans would have. More fingers as well. Kirk likened the creatures to some of those created by Tolkien. If the author only knew.

“Your name comes to us from many, some who know and some who do not. We’ve watched the Federation but they did not want to watch us. Not until they found our water. Now they want from us. It is only fair that we want from them. We want you, James Tiberius Kirk,” The creature lifted an arm, hand outstretched to curl around his neck and cradle his head. Behind him, Kirk could sense Spock moving forward slowly, could picture his stance, his hand moving to his phaser. “to raise the young. Show us that you understand life. That your kind can love what is not its own.”

“And what if I am unable to raise the tree properly? What will happen then?”

“You mean if you fail? We all fail. But you will not. Love the young. It will live.”

Kirk let out a heavy sigh. Still aware of the hand around his head, he lifted his chin, mildly alarmed when the grip tightened.

“Is the sapling a sentient being?” Spock had come to stand even with Kirk. He moved so slowly, so silently. Kirk had to give it to him. The man knew how to be covert. It didn’t seem to startle the creature, who raised another arm Kirk did not notice before to touch at Spock’s chest. It moved the fabric of his shirt under one finger.

“No.”

***

The Enterprise had been given orders to start negotiations with beings that had been introduced to first contact accidently after an exploratory mission of a benign nature. To say the scientists of the vessel were in shock to meet sentient beings reminiscent of trees was an understatement. They had been exploring at leisure, overturning rocks and collecting samples, unaware of the eyes on them. Their frantic message to the Federation had been met with swift support, although they did report the creatures to be gentle and kind. The science vessel was irritated to have their research put on hold, being forced by Starfleet to wait for official first contact before continuing.

Captain Kirk, having a reputation for seeing delicate situations to a fruitful end, was chosen for the task. If he chose to ignore the fact that he was also the Federations Golden Boy, and such was an undeserved deciding factor, those who knew him well would not argue.

So Kirk would see to raising the tree, he would put down the roots and provide a foundation for further negotiations. Because the oceans of the planet Ossetit Alpha 2, home to the sentient tree beings whose name the universal translator could not translate, were rich in an element found only on one other planet, a planet long gone.

***

It didn’t startle him when the door to his bathroom opened with a quiet swoosh, or when a figure came to stand over him, leaning ever so slightly into his space. It didn’t surprise him when he felt a solid, warm chest lean comfortably against his back; or when arms came to circle his hips; or when a chin rested on his shoulder. It didn’t surprise him when warm lips pressed softly against the crease of his crooked smile.

It didn’t startle him because he and Spock had been sharing embraces, kisses, and occasionally a bed for the last few months. Late night chess games, near death experiences, common interests and compelling conversations had fostered a comfortable relationship. Accidental touches became purposeful, lingering hands leaving heavy ghosts. When Kirk learned of the ozh’esta, remembered Spock using a similar arrangement of fingers to touch his wrist, he unashamedly and awkwardly held his hand out in a similar fashion late one night, both of them leaned over a chess board. His head had been down and when Spock made no move, Kirk looked up to see wide eyes taking in his fingers, trailing up his arm and locking with his fierce gaze. Though Spock’s eyes betrayed his wonder and confusion and Kirk thought for a moment he had misinterpreted, Spock made sure to put that worry to rest, as he did so often for Kirk.

It didn’t startle him because the first time he had taken Spock to his bed, laid him down and stripped him bare, he was met with a determination wild with unbridled restraint. Lips molded with his fervently, choking down his gasps and moans and all at once Spock was above him, otherwise deft fingers pulling, fumbling with the buttons of Kirks Starfleet issue pants. The austere Vulcan startled when Kirk covered his fingers with his own but calmed when they worked together to divulge each other of their clothing. Spock once more laid beneath Kirk, his fingers worrying the hair of his navel, twisting it into knots. So Kirk took charge, as he had been trained to do and lived in wonder of the noises of Spock with his pleasure, grew with his own crescendo as their bodies rocked together. Forgetting time, forgetting titles, they moaned each other’s names, incoherent sounds, keens and whispers of love never felt before. And afterwards they lay panting, tangled together, completely indistinguishable from the other. And when Spock laughed lightly, and took his hand, and twined their fingers together, Kirk thought maybe he had broken him.

“This isn’t what I was trained to do.” Kirk’s quiet confession was just enough to break the moment and he felt Spock shift beside him, felt his mind withdraw slightly from his own. He had become so accustomed to the bond. Of course Spock would know of his distress. “Diplomatic mission, check. First contact, got that. Defending the borders, can do that in my sleep. But raising a plant? Nothing in Starfleet training ever goes over raising a plant.”

“May I sleep here tonight?” Spock asked, pulling the chair back and standing to come before Kirk, blocking his view of the plant he had placed on his desk.

“Are you listening? I know nothing of taking care of a plant. This isn’t a negotiation or a tactical endeavor. I might have grown up on a farm, but I did little of the dirty work. How am I supposed to explain to Starfleet that I fucked up the most important treaty of my career because I let the dirt dry out? Don’t answer that! It’s rhetorical.”

Kirk regretted snapping almost immediately. Taking his frustrations out on his first office, at least in this manner, was not productive. Spock’s tilted head and imploring eyes, the confusion that Kirk felt leaking through the bond, added to his frustrations. He rubbed deeply at his eyes, appreciating the pain from pushing them so far into their sockets.

“You forget,” Spock took his hand, entwining their fingers. He did so often, contrary to his culture. “That other individuals aboard this ship are trained in such matters and, given the opportunity, would most willingly assist you. You need only ask.”

Throwing his head back, Kirk chuckled at the simplicity of his First Officers logic. Of course. He let himself be pulled from the chair by strong arms. Let himself be led to the bed and stripped of his clothes. Let Spock bask in his nakedness, in the curves and scars and imperfections. He let strong hands close over his shoulders and work the tension, pushing until it gave up and left only a tingling sensation. They traveled down his back, kneading and soothing, over his ass and along his calves. They pushed him down into the mattress and Spock used his leverage, used his mouth and his tongue, to show Kirk a new level of calm.

***

That next morning, Kirk met with Sulu and his team to discuss proper care of the small tree. Combined with the data collected on-planet, both by the original team and the one led by Science Officer Spock, Sulu imparted all his personal wisdom onto Kirk. It left him feeling dizzy, betrayed by the brilliant mind he was supposed to have. It would be easier, he tried to reason, to give the plant to Sulu, sign over all rights or whatever needed to be done. But that would betray the agreement and Kirk had had enough of betrayal.

He took the instruments, the lights, the notes he had scribbled on his padd, back to his room. Sulu had advised him not to place the plant anywhere near a draft and one of his team members had made the point of needing to secure the plant in case of some emergency, namely lack of gravity. Scotty, in his brilliance, had created a sort of cage, with a base that would keep the plant in place. The lights would need to be placed an optimal distance away. A distance not yet known and one that would have to be determined after some observations. He could hear Sulu’s voice still, “You’ll want to watch the leaves. If they start to yellow or brown, the light is too far. If they start to burn, it’s too close.” It was overwhelming and all so much and, in that moment, Kirk felt the desire to just quit.

As he sat before the plant, in its little cage with its little light, he gasped. Pulling himself closer, he couldn’t help the grin at seeing a new leaf, still tightly coiled but emerging all the same. It was not his work, he knew. He hadn’t done anything yet to encourage such growth, but it made him feel accomplished all the same. The anxiety waned some as he traced a finger reverently over the leaf, marveling at its softness.

That night, as he lay in the dark and thought about the tree and its care, he smiled when the mattress shifted and found comfort in the strong arms that wrapped around his middle.

***

He could act like the eyes that were on him, starting when he walked in the mess hall as was normal but continuing past normal when they noticed the plant in his hand, weren’t actually on him. He could act like the steady noise of conversation hadn’t dulled into murmured whispers as he made his way to his usual space; or that his usual meal buddies didn’t stop in their tracks to watch him sit, placing the plant on the table, still firmly in his hands.

He could act like that wasn’t happening at all. But it was and as he met the eyes of his bridge crew he just smiled warmly and began his customary picking of food off their plates. He never had been much for a full breakfast. Spock obliged willingly. Chekov had no qualms and Sulu seemed used to the thievery. Scotty was surprisingly territorial – Kirk never got much from him. He stopped trying get anything from Bones or Uhura a long time ago. Although they would occasionally willingly share. Today was one of those days.

***

The stares followed him to the bridge, lingering as he took his seat. Getting the plant comfortable, or rather getting himself comfortable with the plant, took a moment. He shifted right to left, drawing a leg up and cradling the plant in the crook of his knee before dropping the leg and attempting to put the plant between himself and the right side of the chair. That, however, didn’t seem too safe. If he reached over or leaned too far to the side, he would risk injuring its delicate leaves or trunk. Was it considered a trunk at the moment? A sapling? A sprig?

Blowing out a puff of air, he placed the plant between his feet on the floor, holding it steady between his arches. As long as he didn’t move, it would be safe. He moved a lot, though, shifting from station to station or just standing to stretch. He had taken up a steady tapping with his right fingers. He hadn’t noticed Spock’s presence until he covered Kirk’s fingers with is own.

Spock then reached down, lifting the plant and pushing a button on the captain’s chair. A compartment opened, and Spock placed the pot, which so perfectly fit, inside. Kirk had forgotten all about that feature.

Rarely did Kirk use the telepathy with Spock on the bridge but in that moment he blindly reached out, taking a firm hold of Spock’s wrist and projecting as hard as he could.

I can’t do this!

Spock only looked at him, his wrist limp in Kirk’s grip.

You are doing fine.

***

He’d turned off the plants light hours ago. After his shift on the bridge, Kirk had returned to his room, setting up the plant so that it would receive the required amount of light in the day. He had then attempted to give his attention to the other parts of the ship. Engineering was first, but he had been terribly distracted and so Scotty pushed him out the door with a shake of his head. The science labs were next, but he knew from Spock’s log the daily goings on and simply gave a once over before moving on. Medbay was the normal disaster, artfully composed and orchestrated by his best friend, who shared with him a shot of something orange and sent him on his way.

That had wasted two hours. Paperwork had occupied him for another two. Uhura and her foray into teaching him Vulcan had been abandoned after one. Dinner in the mess hall, meditation and yoga with Spock, being distracted from such by Spock, and a sonic shower had passed by another two.

In sum, Kirk should be exhausted.

He wasn’t. Instead he lay in the dark, looking over to where he knew the plant to be resting in its cage. He had read a paper once that claimed and partially validified that plants were affected by the energy and mood in the room, much the way humans were unconsciously. He wondered if the plant could sense his anxiety. And, if so, how affected the plant was. He chewed his lip as he thought of the plant being uncomfortable due to his failings or insecurities. If he was supposed to love the plant, thus having the plant thrive, how could he reasonably do so if not through some pseudo-telepathy no one had actually proven to be fact.

“To refer to the plant as such is illogical.” Spock murmured from his side. Kirk had not meant to be projecting. Yet another example of his unconscious, hindering nature. “The term plant is too broad and while the word is technically being used correctly, greater elucidation can be achieved by referring to the plant by what it is: a tree. Or rather, a sapling.”

Kirk had shifted to face Spock and could feel the breath of his words across his face. “Maybe I should name it.”

The soft pads of Spock’s fingers found his chin, then his jaw, and finally his cheek. “What would you name it?” Spock humored him.

Kirk lifted his shoulder, though he knew Spock couldn’t see the action. Spock sighed lightly all the same.

“The creatures of Tolkien’s creation were called Ent, correct? While other Terran cultures make mention of sentient trees, the Ent are perhaps the most well-known.”

Kirk laughed lightly. “Funny you should mention that. I was thinking of them when we met the elder on planet. Wonder how many other crew members made the comparison. Ent it is.”

***

The next five days followed in much the same fashion as the first. Kirk’s anxiety over the situation both diminished and increased, causing a perplexing array of confidence and small mental breaks. One leaf had begun to turn black around the edges, crinkling and curling in on itself in the most pitiful way. Spock had calmly prevented Kirk from calling a red alert. Sulu moved the lights back but informed him that unfortunately the leaf might be beyond saving. Spock also stopped Kirk from turning the ship around and seeking the aid of the elder tree beings.

The crew had become accustomed to seeing Kirk with his tree, even going so far as to ask after Ent. They did so with knowing smiles, some genuine and some mocking. They were familiar with Ent’s presence on the bridge, made concessions for its safety, and offered advice. After a time, Ent became as much of a function to the ship as any other crew member, lack of rank aside.

When Kirk was otherwise occupied, Spock took Ent. It was during one such time, at the end of the first week, that Spock first noticed a thickening on Ent’s trunk; the budding of a new branch emerging. Kirk had been ecstatic, wrapping his arms around Spock’s neck and kissing him soundly. Soon, the one bud was joined by a second and each began the leisurely task of upward growth. New leaves unfurled, replacing the one damaged by the light, thus leaving Kirk feeling slightly more at ease.

“You are distracted.” Spock sat opposite of him, having taken black in their newest chess match. He was considering the board with some heavy level of restrained perplexion. Kirk could see it in the creases around his eyes, between his eyebrows as they drew tightly together, and in the clenching and unclenching of his jaw. The win was in the bag but Kirk had little desire to finish the match. “May I have your thoughts?”

“A meld?”

Spock sat up at the mention, abandoning the game to look Kirk in the eyes. “It had not been my intention, but I would not decline the opportunity.”

“Of course you wouldn’t. Later, I promise.” Kirk stood. He held out his hand, drawing Spock out of the seat and taking him to sit on the floor before the plant. “How do I know if I’m doing this right?”

Spock had grown mildly irritated by the question as his Captain had been asking it daily for the last week. No matter his answer, Kirk was unsatisfied. Spock had gone so far as to propose a scientific experiment in which he would measure the growth of the tree through tricorder readings, off gassing and root development. Kirk had been especially unsatisfied with that answer, snapping at Spock, accusing him of treating the tree impartially, of being uninvested in Ent’s care. Spock had tried to calmly and logically reassure Kirk that such was not the case; that the development of the tree was a top priority. That he had grown, in some sentimental way, attached to Ent.

Kirk had deflated quickly. All the pressure that had been building in him, that made it hard for him to breath or think or sleep, seemed to seep out of him. It left him more exhausted than Spock had ever witnessed his Captain being before. Kirk always exuded a confident, if not overly boisterous, air. To see that stripped from him left Spock wanting for some way to fix it. They had melded that night, had been late to shift that next morning, had stolen away in an abandoned conference room part way through the shift.

Now, Kirk looked every bit as deflated as he had that night and Spock knew not how to help. They would meld later, make love later, but that would not help with now. Spock had always failed at providing comfort. Starfleet did not have a course in consolation.

“While I have only my own observations and experience to speak from, I believe the bulk of your anxiety and unease comes from your inability to compare. Never before has an undertaking such as this occurred. You can compare the growth of Ent now as to when you first received Ent, but that is only physical and does not account for the question of if Ent is receiving enough nurturing. Enough love.” Kirk had continued to deflate as Spock spoke. His shoulders fell, his head listing to one side. His eyes, usually so bright, were dull and noticeably sad. “That being said, I have watched you care for Ent. I have watched you place the comfort of Ent over yourself. You have consulted with experts when you did not know the answer to a problem. You treat Ent as I would assume you would treat your own child. In that way, I believe you are, as you would say, “doing this right.””

Kirk leaned heavy against Spock, his whole weight pressing into the Vulcan. He entwined their hands, his facing coming down to bury into Spock’s neck. These moments of vulnerability were few and far between, only ever occurring in the privacy of their quarters. Spock wielded to them surprisingly easily, folding around Kirk and running his fingers soothingly through his hair.

“My love, you are doing just fine.”

***

Kirk awoke slowly, disentangling himself from his warm Vulcan lover, stretching all his muscles while perched at the edge of the bed. He felt something pop, genuinely surprised at the loud accompanying noise. He manipulated all the knuckles on his hands, following with his toes. Afterwards, he sat still for a moment, allowing his mind to wander in that hazy, post-slumber confusion. The prints on his hips ached in a good way and he could feel the lips on his neck still. All over his body reminded him of the Vulcan that had taken him, that had simultaneously excited and calmed him. Behind him Spock moved, wrapping a hand around his waist and entwining their fingers. Kirk could tell he was still deeply asleep, the bond thick and unresponsive.

Standing, Kirk checked on Ent, as had become his morning custom. The cup of coffee warming his hands dropped to the floor, scattering its contents across the tile and leaving a dangerous mess of sharp ceramic. It was one of Kirks last antique mugs, worn and cracked already but forgotten in the face of his surprise.

There, on the table, in the small cage, in the pot that had been painted and adorned with other decorations, sat Ent, its small eyes, its thin line of a mouth looking back at Kirk with an expression that was both loving and very much concerned. Kirk’s mouth moved like a fish out of water, his eyes growing impossibly large, his face contorting into open shock. He stood there for a long moment, just staring.

Ent became increasingly alarmed, its head dropping, its shoulders hunching, its hands coming to wrap around itself in the obvious show of self-conscious anxiety. In a want to comfort it, Kirk moved forward, bringing his hands up in an open gesture. He was pained to see Ent draw back.

“It does not know who you are.” At the sound of Spock’s voice, Kirk jumped. At the same time, Ent reached out, looking over Kirks shoulder and all but begging for Spock’s attention. Spock stepped around Kirk, holding out a hand and watching as Ent wrapped one hand around his finger. Ent’s fingers were not yet developed enough to truly grasp him but still Spock felt the desire for closeness. Ent’s mind connected almost instantly with his, the thoughts of love and comfort flooding him and leaving him momentarily stunned.

“Ent. Hey buddy. Hey. It’s Jim.” Kirk cooed. He leaned down, coming close to look Ent properly in the face. “Hey.”

At this Ent reached for him and Kirk mimicked Spock’s actions. Ent’s mouth moved in a sloppy mirror of Kirk’s open mouthed smile. It looked so odd, so out of place but also so very happy. Its eyes shifted between both of the men, its grasp on their fingers flexing and relaxing, moving over them and rubbing up and down their palms.

Kirk looked to Spock. In his excitement he leaned over, planting a wet, morning breath laden kiss on his cheek. Spock turned, fitting their lips together, ignoring Kirk’s smile when Ent made a garbled noise.

Deciding it was of utmost importance to study Ent, to introduce it slowly to all that was new to it, Kirk gave temporary command to Sulu, relieving Spock as his help would be needed as well. They invited McCoy over first, marveling at Ent’s excited reaction upon hearing his brash exclamation. He ran the tricorder over them for good measure, noting the differences in readings pre and post transformation. He discussed with them Ents new energy needs, what it could and could not consume via its mouth and called them both crazy for ever taking on this endeavor to begin with. All the while, Ent made noises that Kirk assumed was laughing.

After seeing how well Ent did with Bones, Kirk and Spock took them to the officers mess hall, sitting in the corner and not drawing attention to themselves. Ent looked around excitedly, taking in the world they knew so far only through sound. Each crewmember that entered would pull Ent’s look, their eyes – so dark and blank yet so expressive – darted this way and that. They would occasionally make their gargled noises, all still completely unintelligible.

Little by little, crewmembers seemed to take note of what was going on. They would stop a bit longer as they walked by, careen their heads to get a better look, nudge the person beside them and whisper conspiratorially. Not a one approached.

Chekov, however, with his bright smile and bubbly voice, pulled up next to Spock, launching into a discussion about a non-Federation planets ability to achieve warp with a nonconventional warp drive. He had yet to notice Ent, leaning precariously into Spock’s personal space. When Spock made a slight movement, pulling back from the overly excited Ensign, Chekov’s eyes shifted quickly to Ent. His mouth dropped open, his already too large eyes growing even larger.

“Oi, my. Look it is so small and it's eyes and mouth. It is like the tree people from the planet then, no? I had not realized.”

Nodding, Jim smiled, his hand tracing the lip of Ent’s pot. Ent reached out with both hands, clasping Jim’s finger. “Yeah, it was definitely a surprise this morning, waking up to this little guy. They've been taking this all in and seem to be adapting well. Wouldn’t you say so, Mr. Spock?”

Spock, having been pulled into the conversation, took a moment, his eyebrows climbing into his hairline. “Indeed. They seem to be most interested in their surroundings and are engaging well. It will be interesting to see how they continue to develop, especially if their vocal cords are able to emulate our speech patterns.”

Jim had not thought of this. While Ent had made noises, they were not like the noises the other tree people had made. He made a mental note to contact them. If they needed to have the universal translator teach Ent their native tongue, they would need to begin work on that soon. Aside from that, Jim only had a running list of things he wanted to ask the elders. And it was growing by the minute.

For the remainder of the evening, various crewmembers got up the courage to approach, some engaging Ent, most simply addressing the table and leaving. Not wishing to overwhelm Ent, Jim and Spock returned to their room shortly after finishing their meal, but well before the time they would usually retire. Regardless, they all found sleep came easily that night.

The next morning was much the same, followed by the typical shift on the bridge, made all the more exciting by Ent’s continued garbling. The message Jim had sent out to the elder tree people had been returned with promising news. To add to the amazement of what the Federation already knew of the tree people of Ossetit Alpha 2, they were apparently able to mimic any sound effortlessly. True guardians of their world, they could communicate with all its inhabitants. In short, Spock was hard pressed to contain his excitement at the prospect of Ent indeed being able to emulate their speech patterns.

***

Weeks passed in much the same fashion. Ent had begun to pick up on words; they could call for their parents (Spock had not argued when Jim insisted that they were indeed Ent's parents), they could greet their friends, they could ask for things, their manners were on point.

Very rarely did Jim question if Ent was happy anymore. Ent's joy for the world, their wonder for everything around them, their want to be with the people they loved and those who loved them. Jim had never been so in love with another the way he was in love with Ent.

Seeing Spock with Ent inspired a new level of fondness, a deeper emotion for his lover than Jim already felt. And he knew that Spock could feel the transference, he knew he wasn’t shielding it well, that he was letting it bleed through the bond. At times, Spock would be engrossed with Ent, talking with them and teaching them, and suddenly he would look to Jim, confusion etching his features. The bond would light up moments later and Spock would smile his special smile at Jim, returning his attention to Ent.

Being parents proved all new challenges that neither man was prepared for. It was easy enough when Ent was seemingly unaware, when their eyes and mouth had yet to make an appearance. Jim wouldn’t call them needy, but both men enabled Ent to the point that they were almost always with them.

Which became a problem when both men wanted to be just both men. Jim had put little thought into it before but the first time that Spock reached over, running his hand down Jim’s body, gripping him lightly; and Jim threw his head back and moaned lowly and Ent called out to them from the across the room. Jim had pushed Spock away roughly, disentangled their bodies while pushing up to sit at the edge of the bed. His face lit up with heat, turning an embarrassing shade of red. It darkened even more at Jim’s realization that Ent recognized them from their voice that first day. Ent had heard them before.

Bones laughed at them, a knowing look in his eyes when they asked him to watch Ent for a night. Jim’s embarrassment was soon forgotten, overwritten by Spock’s body. He had missed this. They both had. And that night served to reinforce them of the fact that, indeed, they were parents.

***

It was after a visit with Sulu, walking around the botany labs and talking plants, that Jim was struck with an idea. They had always watered Ent’s soil when it was dry and the list of things that Ent could eat and drink was vast.

But as Sulu went on about how most plants, even those from arid climates, enjoyed a good mist every now and again, Jim began to wonder if Ent might enjoy it too.

Taking a true water shower was a bit outdated and wasteful, especially so on a starship parked in the middle of space, but water was still available for that purpose, albeit in a very limited way. Having the override code, Jim allotted 10 gallons of water for his purposes. After it’s use, the water would be collected, and the then gray water would be used on the plants in the botany labs.

The irony of the situation wasn’t lost on Jim.

Collecting Ent, who squealed with joy as their pot was lifted off the ground, Jim made puttering sounds into the bathroom. He placed Ent in the tub, smoothing out the confused furrow that arose between their brows with a kiss. He lifted the nozzle at the end of the hose, careful to first point it away from Ent. Turning on the water, he didn’t have to wait for it to reach an acceptable temperature. With his palm upturned, Jim held his hand out, gently running the water over his skin.

When Ent held their hand out, Jim took it gently in his. He started at their fingers, working his way up their arm and eventually letting it slide along their trunk. Ent chirped, an excited noise that turned into a squeal as Jim pulled the water nozzle back, causing the water to spray at Ent. Jim laughed deeply, leaning in to rub his face on Ent’s. Ent used that moment to encircle their arms around Jim’s neck, using their deceptive strength to pull Jim into a hug. Before true surprise could register, the moment was lost, abandoned in favor of Ent wanting the water sprayed on their face. Unphased, Jim obliged, the smile still at his lips, the laugh ready in his throat.

They were like that when Spock walked in: Jim slowly swaying the nozzle back and forth, up and down, Ent attempting to catch it with their outstretched hands, their face alight with joy.

Like so many other things in their life, this became a new routine.

***

By the end of the sixth month, life on the _Enterprise_ had changed dramatically, yet in such a gradual and fluid rate that it almost went unnoticed. Aside from the fact that, beside the captain’s chair was a 12” pot adorned with various decorations, the bridge was almost unchanged. The being inside, with a trunk as thick as a mans arm, with two long-reaching arms, was babbling excitedly to it’s father at the science station. A new occurrence, yet highly welcome.

“Of course, Ent. The distance in which we have traveled is not so great so as to be indeterminable or unmeasurable. As per Starfleet regulations, the computer system aboard the ship tracks any and all movement. At any point, one with the appropriate credentials can see exactly where the ship has traveled. Including how far.”

Not necessarily the answer that Ent was searching for, they lightly crossed their too-long arms, dropping their head and letting out a little huff. “I know that, sa-mekh. I meant, like, how long is it?”

Spock looked to Jim, his eyebrows pleading for any help. Jim smiled, shrugging his shoulders. It was a battle Spock had started, attempting to logic his explanation out to a being whose mental abilities seemed to be on par with that of a four year old human. 

This constantly amazed and astounded the two men. Ent had only been a part of their lives for seven months and yet in seven months they had changed so much and advanced far quicker than anyone was truthfully prepared for. When Jim had reached out again to the elder tree people of Ossetit Alpha 2 – it was becoming a weekly occurrence – they had assured him that initially their kind grew at a heightened pace. This pace tapered off at points and all but stopped at others.

“How long is what, Ent?” Spock was patient, folding his hands on his lap and speaking in a low, even tone. He was always patient with Ent.

Jim’s chest tightened at the exchange. All workings on the bridge were ignored in favor of watching his partner and child interact.

Ent’s lips twisted, the bark of their face making a slight scraping sound. “Hmm. I don’t know. Never mind.”

“Very well. If you find you are better able to voice your questions and wish to discuss the topic more, please do not hesitate to seek me out.” With a thinly vailed smile, Spock turned back to his science station.

Jim laid a hand across Ent’s shoulders, rubbing at the gap he found there, one he noted on a particularly hard night had brought comfort to Ent. It had been the first time both parents had beamed down to a planet at the same time; the first time both of them came back from the planet injured. While Ent loved Bones and would gladly spend an entire day with him in sickbay, seeing both of their parents injured and unresponsive in the bio beds, had left Ent confused and inconsolable. Ent had called out to them, crying miserably when neither parent responded.

Jim woke sooner than Spock but that seemed to only worsen Ent’s distress. Jim spent the next several days, waiting for Spock to slip out of his healing trance, with Ent beside him, whispering to them and rubbing their back. It didn’t take long to find the spot that soothed them most.

Toward the end of the shift, after having exhausted the learning program on their PADD, Ent again returned their attention to Spock. They watched him for a moment, twisting almost uncomfortably to see him well. Spock was still standing, having walked over to an ensigns station to speak with them, waist bent and hands bracing himself as he observed the readouts from one of the screens at his station.

It became quite obvious, quite quickly that the tree people of Ossetit Alpha 2, irregardless of all the other amazing things their kind were capable of, were also quite capable of a certain level of telepathy. Spock had reasoned that this made perfect sense given the known data of the communications system between all living flora and fungi; a type of telepathy, he had said.

When Spock and Ent formed a very strong bond almost immediately, it wasn’t too much of a surprise. As was customary among his people, Spock requested a week off from any unnecessary responsibilities – which Jim translated into shore leave – in order for their bond to be focused on and strengthened.

When Jim began to feel Ent in his own mind, he almost cried.

So when Spock turned to Ent, smiled, used his impressive Vulcan strength to lift their pot and place it in the chair at the science station, Jim could feel both of their delight echoing in his mind.

***

Still sleep addled, Jim was not truly conscious of the body against his; he simply responded to the weight, to the familiarity. He was hard pressed to give up his sleep and so in compromise he laid his hand on the back of the being resting on his chest. His fingers instinctively found the groove between the shoulder blades, running slowly, lazily, up and down.

Their head shifted against his left shoulder, their hot, foggy breath puffing out contentedly against his cheek. He could feel fingers gripping the fabric of his shirt, fingers carding through his hair. He could feel a deep, slow _thud, thud, thud _against his stomach.

It wasn’t until the quiet, almost whispered, reverent and awe filled, “Fascinating,” beside him that Jim truly opened his eyes. He fixed them first on Spock, who had a look of absolute joy on his face. Spock lay on his side, his head propped up with a fist curled against his cheek, his eyes not on Jim.

Tilting his head down, a near impossible feat given the body curled atop his chest, Jim saw only a few leaves and some very recognizable bark. Inhaling sharply, his eyes darted to Spock, who regarded him with a smile he didn’t even try to hide.

“Quiet,” Spock whispered. “Ent is still asleep. Sometime during the night, I felt the bed shift. When I saw it was Ent, I remained still and did not alert them to my awareness. I wished to see what they would do. As is obvious, at some point between when we retired and now, they have become rather mobile.”

“Obviously. Spock this is amazing. This is fantastic. How is this possible?”

“It seemed a logical eventuality. I did not anticipate it occurring for some time, however. If you do recall, the tree elders of Ossetit Alpha 2 were mobile, walking on legs much the same that you and I do.”

“Didn’t think it too important to share with me?” Jim was smiling, teasing Spock as was his pleasure.

“I am sharing now. Regardless, I had assumed that you would come to the same conclusion.”

“You know what they say about assuming, Spock.” Jim chided, clicking his tongue in a displeased way. Ent shifted against him and both men stilled. When Ent settled, Jim turned back to Spock, his look expecting.

“I have heard, yes. I will endeavor not to make an ass out of either of us anytime in the near future.”

“And after that; you okay with making an ass of us then?”

Scooting closer, Spock placed his hand atop Jim’s, feeling the rise and fall of Ent’s breathing. He didn’t say a word as he closed the distance between them, letting his lips speak against Jim all the love he felt. Jim could feel it in the bond as well, ever alight with the emotions Spock could not allow himself to show physically.

He could feel the pride, the wonder, the delight, the heart-clenching all-consuming love, the want to protect, to teach. He could feel Spock’s restrained desire to take Ent, to lay them across his chest, to have this same level of closeness that Jim was melting under.

He could feel how overwhelming it all was for the Vulcan.

Shifting his right arm, Jim worked it under Spock, urging him to slide closer, to tuck himself into Jim’s side. Jim burrowed his nose into Spock’s soft black hair, their fingers lacing together on Ent’s back. The weight of Ent, the feel of their heartbeat, the closeness of Spock, all combined to lull Jim back into sleep.

***

Life aboard the _Enterprise _changed yet again now that Ent was mobile.

They were quick.

“Slow down buddy,” Jim urged, turning a sharp corner to keep Ent in his line of site.

One would assume that, having never used their legs before, Ent would have to learn to crawl before they could walk. That assumption would be very wrong.

Ent turned to look back at him, a cheeky smile on their face. They took off again, ducking through the legs of surprised crewmembers, all too struck to be of any assistance to their captain. Ent was making a beeline for Sickbay, their pace quickening once the doors were in view. Stepping up to the door, expecting it to open for them as it did their parents, they did not stop and instead ran full force into the steel.

This knocked them on their ass, jarring them and leaving them stunned. When Ent looked back to Jim, it was with a welling of tears springing up in their eyes. Jim, having finally caught up with Ent, picked them up and cradled them in his arms.

“I told you to slow down, buddy. You can’t just go running around like that through the halls, it’s too dangerous. I know you’re excited, but you have to be careful too.” Placing Ent down, Jim walked up to the door, guiding Ent through when the doors opened. “I’ll have to have the doors programmed so they allow you in. Of course, you won’t be able to go everywhere. Some places will be off limits. You understand?”

Ent gave a sharp nod before walking – it really was more of a restrained jog – up to where Dr. McCoy stood. They looked up expectantly before huffing and tugging gently at Bones’ pant legs.

“What in the Sam hell?” Bones squawked, much to the delight of Ent, who turned to regard their father standing in the doorway.

“Damnit, Bones. I said no cursing.” Jim huffed, coming to pick Ent up and put them on his shoulder.

Bones scoffed, crossing his arms in front of him, head shaking. “And you get on to me. He’s gonna learn it from someone.” Giving a smile for Ent, Bones reached over to take them from Jim, holding them at arms length.

Ent’s legs were surprisingly well developed, dangling though they were as Leonard held them aloft. “You litter buggar,” Bone’s laughed, “You’re going to be getting into everything now, aren’t ya.”

Ent laughed, their head nodding furiously.

***

When the turbo lift doors to the bridge opened, Spock turned, standing to take Ent from Jim as had been his custom for the last several months. Instead, he heard a fast tapping, his eye’s widening slightly upon seeing Ent running towards him.

“Ent!” Jim warned, his tone a harder snap than normal. He continued in a defeated whisper, “I said no running.”

Spock lifted Ent without prompting, holding him close, his eyebrows raising dangerously into his hair. When he had left for the bridge that morning, Ent had been slowly and carefully walking between Jim and the coffee table. Prior to that they had happily wobbled from parent to parent, unstable but gaining ground.

“I had not anticipated that Ent would take to running as easily as they have. It is fascinating, the speed at which they are able to master what would take others years.”

Jim smiled at him from across the bridge, his eye’s shining with the beginning of tears.

***

Ent ran to the nearest tree, their hands coming to lay flat against its trunk. They lifted their head, the leaves along their crown rustling as their head lifted toward the massive trees own crown. Ent looked from branch to branch, searching, hands running up and down the thick trunk.

It was the first time they had included Ent in a trip planet side. Spock had deemed the planet harmless enough, any threat that might present itself easily enough taken care of by the more than capable security team. Ent had been alight with scarcely contained excitement, giving new meaning to the term ‘bouncing off the wall.’

Jim’s heart clenched in his chest, his hand gripping blindly until it found Spock’s. He held on tight, gripping and threading their fingers together. He could feel Spock’s concern through the bond, could feel his unease bleeding through. Spock gripped his hand to the point of discomfort.

It would kill them both. Jim realized in that moment, losing Ent would destroy them. If Ent decided they didn’t like life away from their own kind, if they desired the solid ground of a planet, if the lack of the telepathic bond to an ecosystem was too much to be without. If Ent decided they didn’t want to be on the _Enterprise. _Didn’t want to be with their parents.

They had both become so dependent on the beautiful soul that had so taken over their life. Their bed had become small, irregardless of the fact that Ent barely reached Jim’s calf. Ent was so small, so fragile, yet would hear none of it from anyone. They were determined, a fierceness that seemed somehow both at odds with and all together complimenting their loving nature.

Ent dropped their hands, head still cocked up toward the sky. In a surprising feat of acrobatics, Ent bent backwards, until they were taking in their father upside down. A wide grin split their face and Ent whirled quickly, jogging over to the two men whose hands were still clasped. Ent reached but was unable to touch their combined hands, smile still glowing.

“Can we go back home?”

Turning to look at Spock, Jim couldn’t help the quivering of his lips.

***

Looking back on his service aboard the _Enterprise,_ there wasn’t much that Jim would change. A few near misses, some treaties gone sour, the loss of members of his crew: Jim would change that in a heartbeat. Yet, he was one of those that believed in the divine promises of fate. The present, the future, were both entirely dependent upon the past. And the past was decided by all the minuscule workings of the world, all the way down to the atomic levels.

“Your thoughts are,” Spock paused, his hand still running up and down the bare skin of Jim’s back. They lay together, basking in the quiet of the morning haze that settled in a thick fog at San Francisco’s base. Their condo was quiet, the beat of Spock’s heart loud in Jim’s ear.

In the three years that followed the end of the _Enterprise’s _five-year mission, both Jim and Spock had taken up teaching positions at Starfleet Academy. Carving out a space for themselves in the grounded, bustling cityscape was no easy task. They had become so accustomed to the hum of the ship that the buzz of San Francisco was overwhelming. Added to the cluster was Ent who, at 5 standard years old, was a level of energy that even Spock had a hard time quantifying. Not yet coming up to Jim’s knee, they assumed that Ent had reached a slow period of development – Jim had called the elder tree people of Ossetit Alpha 2 just to be sure.

“My thoughts are what, Spock?” Jim’s hand carded through the thick hair on Spock’s chest.

“Loud.” Jim laughed, reaching up to kiss at the corner of Spock’s mouth. He reached further, pushing himself up, seeking. Finding his destination, Jim allowed his tongue to lap out against the seam of Spock’s lips, moaning at his easy admittance.

And in that moment the light of their life pushed through the door, creeping into the still dim room. The end of the bed dipped; the two men drifted apart, creating the space needed for their child to rest between them. It was warm. It was home. It was the family that neither man had ever deemed themselves worthy of.

There were plenty of things that Jim would change about his captaincy. This was not one of them.

“You remember when we got him?” Jim whispered, finding the groove in Ent’s back.

Jim could barely see Spock’s smile. “Yes, love.”


End file.
